I like this new place, I decide. It’ll be better once we clean up the grossness. If it has water, maybe it has food. That’s encouraging. Adjusting my helmet, I peer down the line of shower stalls and notice there’s more dark smears on the tile flooring. Did someone spill something or is this a pattern? I rub the toe of my boot—the one Ruth re-sized for me—onto the smear and some of it comes up. A spill, then. Curious, I follow the path of the smears and they lead around the corner of the shower stalls, toward a row of what must be toilets. The strange markings continue to the end of the row, to where the toilet enclosure is shut, instead of open.
Curious, I push it in—and jump backward in surprise.
A man is seated there.
“Oh, I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t see you,” I say breathlessly, taking another step back. It’s rude to interrupt someone in their private time on the can, as Alice calls it, and I feel like the rudest person ever. “Shall I shut the door?”
The man says nothing. He remains where he is, slumped in the seat. His skin looks kind of dry and withered, but maybe that’s his species? It’s rude of me to stare, so I try not to. He’s got orange skin and sunken cheeks, and he’s an alien I’ve never seen before. He’s also very still, but maybe that’s just part of who he is, too. I wait for him to speak, but he doesn’t. He says nothing at all.
Oh. He’s asleep.
Well, I should probably introduce myself then. Smiling, I lean forward to touch his knee. “Sir?” When he doesn’t respond, I shake his knee a little harder. “Sir?”
His head…falls off.
It rolls down his shoulder and tumbles to the floor, and I stare at it in horror.
Did I…kill him somehow?
CHAPTER 10
MATHIRAS
MONTHS AGO
Helen’s terrified screaming tears me apart.
I grab my blaster and aim it down the hall, looking for attackers. “Helen? Where are you?”
Kef it, I told her not to move! She screams again and I race down the hall, trying to follow the sound of her voice. All the interior doors have opened, so she could be in any of the dusty, abandoned rooms. I flare my nostrils, trying to pick up Helen’s unique scent, but the smell of dust and metal is overwhelming. I bolt into the nearest room, but the floor is heavily covered with dust—no Helen here.
She screams again, and it sounds like it’s across the hall.
“I’m coming!” I bellow, my heart pounding in my chest. How could I let her get into danger so quickly? Why didn’t I leave her on the pod? “Helen! I’m coming!”
I race across the hall and into what looks like an old locker room. Mining uniforms are hanging from pegs in abandoned cubbies, along with masks and helmets stacked above. No Helen, but footprints and a hint of her scent. There’s a swinging door off to one side and I burst through it, aiming my blaster.
Showers. Showers intended for multiple people, like in a prison (or a really cheap mining company). Dried red smears of blood are all over the floor, and I follow them, turning the corner to see a row of commodes and their partitions.
Helen is pressed to the wall across from the toilets, her fist pressed to her mouth, her beautiful eyes wide with horror.
“I’m here,” I say, and immediately rush to her side, scanning the room for attackers. Right now I want to shake her for being so stubborn and not staying on the ship…or squeeze her tight against me and let her know that I’m with her. I hug her against my chest, aiming my blaster at the room. “Who’s there? Come out and show yourself!”
Helen clings to my chest, burrowing against me as the room remains silent except for the sound of her ragged breathing. I take another deep breath, but there’s no scents other than ours that I can tell. I glance down at the woman pressing against me, and she’s shivering with terror, her face bleached under her vivid coloring.
“Was there someone here, Helen?” I ask, holding her tighter against me. I scan the room over her head but I don’t see anyone. Doesn’t mean I’m going to put my blaster down. Not yet. Not until I know she’s safe.
“A m-man,” Helen stammers. “H-his head fell off!” She bursts into tears. “Did I make his head fall off, Mathiras?”
What the kef is she talking about? “What man, Helen?”
She doesn’t answer me, shaking her head and snuggling closer against my chest. I resist the urge to wrap my hand in her silky hair and force her to meet my eyes. Getting answers out of her is impossible, but she’s clearly frightened out of her wits and needs gentleness from me right now.